


Future Commitments

by Robin Gills (Akiseo)



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 23:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16607930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiseo/pseuds/Robin%20Gills
Summary: Damon never bothered to really keep track of the days of the week, until now. Until Ric.





	Future Commitments

**Author's Note:**

> Proof-read only by me and that doesn't mean much.

Damon never paid attention to the days of the week. Why would he? He didn’t have a job, or school, or commitments of any kind. He didn’t know the meaning of a weekend because he never needed one. He didn’t need to be in bed by a certain time or up to go anywhere. He didn’t worship on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. He didn’t have TV programs that he religiously followed. The day of the week didn’t matter because he could do what he wanted. He had founding events and meetings but usually someone reminded him, and he’d go. Sure, he plotted nefarious things to make Stefan mad or drive other people crazy, but it never really involved knowing it was a Wednesday. He didn’t have a calendar, a planner, gawd forbid a journal.

Some months or even years had passed without Damon really acknowledging a Tuesday. 

Damon never bothered to really keep track of the days of the week, until now. Until Ric.

He knew the day and the hour. Mostly. For a guy who doesn’t wear a watch. His time now was split into days when school was in session and when it wasn’t. Hours Alaric could spend with Damon and hours he had to grade papers or “Damon, it’s one a.m. on a school night. I have to sleep,” hours. He knew when Easter was for Christs sake. And that’s a fucking floating holiday. 

He couldn’t say when it started but it must have been happening for a while. Because here he is, looking at a calendar on the kitchen wall of the boarding house. It has dates for conferences and school holidays. Garbage pickup and daylights savings. Dates for birthdays, parties, and founder meetings. When Bonnie was coming home for Christmas, whose house Thanksgiving was at this year. Someone had even put a little bat sticker on October 31st. 

It has that little black circle around the January 5th too. That little black circle that Alaric had arbitrarily placed last year. His promise with Damon, just one more year to experience as a human. That date had seemed so long away before but it’s less than three months now. 

He distantly thinks he should be freaking out right now but he’s not. 

He hears the front door open. It’s five o'clock. Schools out and it should be Alaric coming home after grading papers or whatever teacher-y stuff he does when classes end. It’s also Friday. Alaric usually brings food from somewhere on Friday. Last week was pizza. Why does Damon remember that? 

Alaric comes into the kitchen holding bags of food, smelling like tacos. He sets them down on the large kitchen island. He unceremoniously tosses his shoulder bag onto one of the chairs at the large kitchen table. It’s filled, as it always is, with papers Damon will make sure don’t get done tonight or the whole weekend.

Alaric tosses his keys into a bowl below the calendar, studying Damon curiously. They have a fucking key bowl. Since when? Damon should really be freaking out right now.

Alaric looks at him questioning now as Damon stands still staring at the key bowl. He raises an eyebrow and walks the three feet to stand shoulder to shoulder with Damon to see what he’s looking at from his perspective. He stands there with Damon looking at the calendar together. 

After a few breaths, “I don’t know what we’re doing.” 

“It’s twelve days until Halloween,” Damon says unhelpfully. He knows how many days until Halloween. 

“Okay,” Alaric draws out considering, probably trying to guess where this is going. “Did you want to do something?” 

Damon can only shrug. It’s on a Wednesday, a ‘school night’. 

“All right,” Alaric says as he smiles, Damon doesn’t know why. “Well let me know. We could scare the shit out of kids if you want to pass out candy or go out for a bit.” He walks back to the food and starts unpacking it. “I got double guac and like every kind of taco they had.” 

Damon doesn’t answer but maybe Alaric knows Damon’s working through something because he keeps on talking as he dumps the enormous bag of homemade chips into a bowl he grabs from the cupboard. 

“You’re not gonna believe what the principal asked me to do when he cornered me at lunch,” Alaric says amusement in his voice. “He wants me to help coach the football team! They’re losing their assistant coach and need someone to step in. I guess he remembered I played but that was I don’t know how long ago. I can’t remember when I last watched a game on TV.” 

Damon finally turns away from the dates and commitments written down, acknowledging a future and a past. It was Blondie’s birthday eleven days ago. “You’re going to do it though,” Damon says as he takes a seat at the island with Ric. He takes a taco, putting it on a plate that Alaric’s already taken out, and one of the guac containers. 

Alaric at least looks a little sheepish, “I said I’d do it on a trial basis.” 

Another thing to put on the calendar, football games, home and away, practice. 

“When does that mean you’ll be home?” Damon asks but he smiles. “I’ll have to reschedule all my plans.” Damon grabs a chip and eats it.

“What plans?” Alaric asked laughing. 

“My plans,” Damon insists. He suggestively licks the salt off his fingers. “How long is practice, Coach Saltzman?”

“Hopefully, under two hours. Something I probably should have considered before I said yes,” Alaric say as he watches Damon lick the pad of his thumb. 

“I’ll write it down on the calendar,” Damon says smirking. That little black circle is around the corner. They’ll have all the time in the world. Now that he’s keeping track.


End file.
